Chlorine and Leather Bound Books
by amyjpond
Summary: "Did you fall in the pool?" The Doctor asks, his voice incredulous. Amy rolls her eyes and points a finger at him. "First time we met, yeah? You told me you had just come out of the swimming pool." When he only raises an eyebrow at her, she stalks towards him with an accusing look. "In the library." / Amy discovers the pool in the library, s6-s7, amy/eleven, oneshot


Inspired by the latest TARDIS-centric episode where we saw the pool and library, and thus headcanon took over. Sorry for the feels, man. Also - the lovely Clara makes an appearance.

_Takes place wherever you like during the end of s6- s7! Presumably when Rory and Amy are not fighting and are traveling with the Doctor. _

disclaimer: if I owned Doctor Who, it would have more happy endings involving Amy Pond.

* * *

He's tinkering with something when he hears it. It echoes throughout the TARDIS corridors, and it isn't soon after when he hears her voice, her accent thick in surprise.

"_Doctor!_"

He's already up and out of his chair, its leather cracked with age, and it spins away from his momentum. He nearly runs into the archway, skidding just in time to avoid the exposed support to his left. He can feel the TARDIS thrum under him, feeling his anxiety and adrenaline.

The TARDIS, although home and as close to him as his second heart, is dangerous. Infinity is not controllable, no matter how much you believe it to be. It holds secrets and dangers, that even himself isn't immune to, let alone his friends - his best friend - "_Amy!"_

He's half ashamed when he hears his voice crack, whether from his own misgiving of giving her full reign of the TARDIS, or from the unavoidable pressure he feels under his two hearts. There it is again, that dark secret that threatens to make it's presence known. It is rather difficult to forget it, bury it, when his mind is already flying through what could be onboard. What she could have found. What she might find out about _him_.

_Every monster is in need of a companion. _

He flips out his sonic, calling out for her once more. They are far from her room, the one she shares with Rory. It's no longer the room with a brightly painted bunk-bed. Bunk beds were cool, he had tried to convince them.

"Amelia!"

He steps out into another dim corridor, and freezes. An open archway invites him into the library that shines brightly despite the late hour - according to his watch - and the smell of chlorine hits him in a wave. The turquoise pool glitters as he approaches, and he can see the reflections of the shelves of books in its ripples.

He feels his chest deflate as his eyes find her.

She is standing, dripping from head to toe in what appears to be her nightgown, flipping through an old leather bound book at the far end of the pool. His eyes quickly do a secondary survey; she appears to be fine, other than sopping wet. She looks up at him.

"Explain yourself, mister."

For a moment, he can't quite speak. He stands, rather dumbly, as she regards him with those daring eyes of hers. He averts his eyes, taking in the slick puddle of water in front of him, and her wet footprints that gather in a pool of water at her feet.

She makes a noise.

"Did you fall in the pool?" The Doctor asks, his voice incredulous.

Amy rolls her eyes and points a finger at him. "First time we met, yeah? You told me you had just come out of the swimming pool." When he only raises an eyebrow at her, she stalks towards him with an accusing look. "In the _library_." She presses the book across her front, now presumably wet; he doesn't quite have the hearts to reprimand her.

He notices in childlike horror that her white nightie is soaked through, and that he can clearly make out the curve of her body under it. His eyes widen a fraction and he presses his lips together into a firm line, already sure she can see through him. He is unsure whether to avert his gaze, stare straight into her eyes, or simply cover his own. But Amy is bewitching in her march towards him, although slightly alike a drowned cat, and he can't take his eyes off her steady gaze.

"That's all he says! Nothing!" Amy scoffs, and she's close enough to wack him slightly on the shoulder. "Blimey, were you ever going to show me this place, Doctor?" She gives him that classic Amy look, one he associates with mischief and stubbornness.

"Well we've been a bit busy!" He says defensively.

"Busy!" She snaps the book shut. "We went to a desert planet yesterday -"

"Gazonge-"

"And you didn't even think '_Amy, Rory, would you like to take a swim in the pool?_'"

"You two were exhausted!"

"Ridiculous!"

He feels a pinch of guilt; he has always been so caught up with Amy - the Ponds - to remember. However, if he starts on that trail of thought, he'll have that dark secret pulsing at the back of his mind, and he doesn't need that distraction.

He gives Amy a look, a quirk of a smile on his lips. "You fell in." He repeats and it's like any tension has been dissolved. _You're my friend - you're my best friend._

Amy crosses her arms over her chest and says nothing.

"What were you doing anyways? I thought you and Rory were sleeping?" He mimics her and he crosses his arms over his chest. He is without his tweed jacket, Amy notices, and his suspenders are dark lines across his shirt.

Amy turns away from him. "Couldn't sleep." She shrugs, and her eyes flicker back to his in a moment of vulnerability.

He can tell by her body language she isn't ready to talk about it just yet. It's as if she knows he'll understand her wish, as he too has asked for this pardon many times before. He isn't persistant like Rory, he runs away himself.

It occurs to him that she was looking for him.

"I've always wanted to take a midnight swim," She says offhand, her gaze fixated on the water. She glances up at him, hair plastered down her back and neck, and regards him pensively. "Isn't fair that you're dry and I'm not."

"Well actually, in the TARDIS it isn't quite midnight -" But he's cut off as Amy nudges him, and he loses balance, toppling over the edge and into the pool.

He breaks the surface with a gasp, dark hair dripping into his eyes and his sonic floating some distance away. Thank Rassilon it's waterproof.

He finds her clutching her sides laughing, the tightly wound coils of tension forgotten. "You looked like a baby giraffe when it first uses its legs!" Amy's voice echoes throughout the space, the ceiling stretching high and wide above them. The smell of books and leather mixes with the smell of chlorine, and he find himself laughing too.

"You're worse than a Garthax, Pond!" He calls out to her, but indulges her. He floats, albiet a bit clumsily, garnishing her a playful look.

Her laughter patters out and he has the overwhelming desire to make her laugh again.

"You're not joining me?"

"I have half the mind to leave you," Amy admits with two hands on her hips. "I would be justified." She points out, but he knows she won't leave. They both know it.

The TARDIS, wishing to be included like an attentive puppy, makes a series of sounds. Amy looks around in surprise, and takes a startled step forward. The TARDIS takes her chance and shakes, just enough to cause small waves in the pool, a few books to fall off their shelf onto the floor, and for Amy to take that fatal step over the ledge.

She hits the water with a splash, and she resurfaces with wide eyes. Amy sputters, and the Doctor's laughter is all she hears as the water drains from her ears. Quickly he's at her side, his hands flitting up her arm in tentative touches to make sure she's alright.

"She did that!" Amy stares at the Doctor with a mixture of astonishment and childlike wonder. Then with a more parental tone - that seems so silly, the Doctor laughs - she waves a finger around her. "Manners, TARDIS!" He likes how her accent curves around his ship's name.

"Aha! That's my girl." The Doctor says admiringly, patting the water as if it is the TARDIS herself.

Amy turns to face him, the water surging into waves as she does so. Her ginger hair fans around her like silk, and entangles with the billow of her nightie, which floats around her like a glowing halo as she treads. Her face, which was determinedly set to call him out, changes instantly. "Your hair!" Amy cries with delight.

Automatically his hands reach for his head, his smile dropping. He only makes it worse, and finally slicks it back with one hand. Amy tries to hide her laughter and puts her mouth under the water, watching him like an alligator as bubbles escape to the surface. Her eyes dance.

With as much dignity he can muster, he flips too eagerly onto his back, and thrashes about more than he plans. Amy protests as water hits her face and she squeezes her eyes shut until he's found some balance.

"You're terrible at this," She says, but her tone is not cruel. It's soft and muffled to his ears, and he peeks a glance at her.

Amy is now on her back too, and he can see the tips of her toes half hidden under the water. She stares up at the ceiling - an encrusted fresco of gallifreyan symbols and words - and he sees her let out a long breath. He finds himself staring.

"A pool within a library," She continues lightly as if he spoke. "It's so -" She has trouble coming up with the right word. "You. _Doctor-ish_."

"Doctor-_ish_?" He teases. _Time head? Shut up!_

His hand finds hers, and he's reminded of stargazing with Vincent some time ago, and something turns uneasily within him. There's a moments breath as they both stare up at the ceiling, the many floors of books, the twisted balconies. They float like lost children, hands clasped together, spread like snow angels. Her hand is deliciously warm against his.

"Are you okay?" His voice is soft, gentle. Amy squeezes his hand. He can see her chest contract slightly, and her lips tremble. She swallows, and closes her eyes as he waits.

"Rory keeps thinking we need to make a choice." She finally says, letting out a wavering breath. "Between travelling and our life."

The Doctor stays quiet.

She sighs, and her eyes drift to their entwined hands. He wishes he could turn his head towards her, but knows he cannot float and do so.

Hesitantly, painfully, he speaks. "And what do you think?"

There is a long pause. For a horrible moment, he thinks she's going to say what his nightmares have consisted of. What he deludes himself of what he believes will never happen.

"I think you need a big, massive, water slide."

He tugs her closer, afraid to let go.

"As you wish, Amelia."

* * *

The Doctor stares at the library, wide and extensive. Clara stands in the middle of it's grandeur, twirling in her brightly coloured dress as she takes it all in. The pool is gone, replaced by a wood finish that stretches the entire space. The ceiling is more of a dome, and the balconies rounder.

He steps hesitantly into the space for the first time since Amy's death.

He wonders if the smell of chlorine is his imagination, or if it still lingers there, just like her memory. Clara is already ahead of him, climbing up the staircase and onto the second floor. She is calling out to him, her voice energetic and carefree. She folds herself over a balcony's railing, and gestures down to him. When he doesn't reply, she speaks louder.

"Doctor!"

He shakes his head, and glances up. "Yes, Clara?" His wonderful, beautiful, mysterious distraction.

"It's midnight!" She points at the grandfather clock on the third story. It's a rather bulky thing, Earthly in it's design and oak panels. The golden plate hosts the hands of a clock, directly pointed upwards in parallel lines. She laughs as if discovering a secret, even if it is a secret that happens every night.

Clara looks back down at him, a loop of brown hair sticking to her forehead. She wrinkles her nose.

"Is it just me, or does it smell like chlorine?"


End file.
